


how do you justify (every moment)

by stardustgirl



Series: Cursed AU [1]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Angst, Crimson Dawn (Star Wars), Drug Use, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Kanan Jarrus Has PTSD, Kanan Jarrus Needs Help, Kanan Jarrus Needs a Hug, Kanan Jarrus-centric, Kanan is Smol, Like 12-smol, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slavery, Spice, Underage Drug Use, its very sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 13:20:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustgirl/pseuds/stardustgirl
Summary: It was during this odd break of routine, while on a space station owned by one of the Five Syndicates, that Kanan first encountered Maul.





	how do you justify (every moment)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibraryMage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/gifts).

> So long story short LibraryMage and I were discussing crossover AUs and we came up with one that was a mix of one of her AUs and then Vexed to Nightmare (mine). And uhhh basically it went downhill very very fast but hefe you go have this angst pit (there’s more to it don’t worry) that we’re currently calling the Cursed AU.
> 
> Also, this is my hundredth fic for Rebels!! A huge thank you goes out to the fandom for being so welcoming to me.
> 
> Title from “Adelaide” by Meg Myers.
> 
> TW: Referenced Drug Use by a Minor (Non-Consensual), Child Abuse, Referenced Shocking of a Child, Victim Self-blaming, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts

If Kanan wasn’t so acutely aware of his status, he could almost believe that he genuinely _ wanted _ to be in Crimson Dawn.

“Owned all by them,” his master assured him when questioned about the massive space station, until he spotted Kanan’s lack of progress on the crates. “Now get back to work.”

He wasn’t keen on testing the limits of his shock collar again.

He returned to his duties.

They were supposed to be there only a small amount of time, but a few hours turned into a few rotations turned into a few weeks. It was long enough for Kanan to get stoned three times, at least (not that he particularly wanted to, the stuff was lower-grade this time around and he very nearly passed out within the first couple hours each time, which was saying something when compared to his regular constitution). His masters decided to take their sweet time with the crates, even going so far as to give him a respite—for the most part—from loading and unloading while recovering from his hangovers. It was a rare enough occurrence that he didn’t believe them at first, going so far as to make it to the crates before collapsing.

So no, this time around, the spice wasn’t anywhere _ near _ good quality.

Still, he had his odd ability to withstand the most debilitating effects of most of the things they made him test. These just happened to be the worst ones so far.

Based on the conversations he overheard between his masters, or between them and others, they were having ship trouble. Kanan hadn’t worked on a ship in years; he’d be more likely to break it than fix it at this rate. So he didn’t offer his services, instead just snorting spice and trying not to dwell on the hopelessness of it all.

The second part was easier.

It had _ gotten _ easier, at least.

It was during this odd break of routine, while on a space station owned by one of the Five Syndicates, that Kanan first encountered Maul.

* * *

He was loading when the man arrived, though in all honesty he was doing more eavesdropping. If they were going to make him test more of the bad batches again, he wanted to be able to mentally prepare himself first. So far, he’d picked up nothing, only discussions about the lack of progress on the ship repairs. He already knew that though; an increase of beatings was almost always due to stress.

Or Kanan being stupid again.

It was usually 50-50.

Halfway into the station’s morning cycle, and during Kanan’s recovery period from the last batch of millaflower extract they’d made him test, one of his masters came and dragged him out to the loading area. He gestured to a group of crates.

“I want those loaded in five minutes.”

“B—“

“Or do you want to test your collar again?”

Kanan quickly shook his head and moved to the crates.

The Zabrak man appeared only a few minutes later.

The Whisper told him that when the younger, shorter-tempered of his masters emerged from the ship almost immediately after, it wasn’t a coincidence. The Whisper also warned him to be wary of the new man.

However, he was still hungover. And he never listened to It when he was high _ or _ hungover.

Kanan watched the pair’s conversation from a ways away, still trying to figure out how to turn the crate’s repulsors on while his head throbbed like a Bantha had stepped on it. The pair suddenly glanced over at him, and Kanan’s neck prickled from the attention, stomach squirming even more when he realized the Zabrak seemed to be particularly interested in him.

“I thought I told you to have that running ten minutes ago!” His master said something to the other man before striding away and back toward him. Kanan flinched instinctively.

“I– I’m sorry, Master, I’m getting it—“

“Clearly you _ aren’t. _ Do I need to remind you of what will happen if you fail _ again?_”

He shook his head quickly, remaining silent. His master stayed a moment longer before turning away, retreating to the Zabrak. Within moments, they were deep in conversation again.

Kanan finally found the switch for the repulsors and flicked it, pushing the crate forward after it started to hover. He tried to ignore the looks from the Zabrak and his master.

_ Just focus on what you’re doing. Don’t get distracted. _

He was returning from pushing the last crate onto the ship when he caught the beckoning gesture. Wary, he approached, eyes flicking down upon his arrival both in respect and out of a desire for them not to see just how hungover he was at the moment.

“What do you need, Master? I can—“

“Hush, boy.” Without missing a beat, his master turned to the newer man. “Here it is, sir.”

_ Sir? _

The other man nodded, clasping his hands behind his back and beginning to circle Kanan. He stiffened, swallowing anxiously as he forced his gaze to the ground once more. Mechanical feet clicked against the floor out of the corner of his eye and behind him. He flinched.

He got no warning, not even from the Whisper, when a hand grasped his chin tight enough to hurt. He was forced to look up into the golden eyes of the Zabrak.

“Who are you?” he risked asking. The man’s gaze narrowed.

Kanan’s face was released, and he was sent stumbling to his knees with the sharp force of a backhand. He bit back a cry, remaining on his knees with his gaze down as the man crouched.

“Look at me,” he ordered, voice dangerously soft. Kanan obeyed. “You will not speak unless I ask you to. Understand?”

Kanan nodded.

The man rose again, dusting his hands off as if cleansing them from Kanan. He didn’t blame the man; if he were him, he would likely have done the same. The Zabrak turned to the boy’s master.

“I’ll take him.”

Kanan blinked in shock. He opened his mouth to ask about what just happened before stopping himself, remembering the new man’s order. The shock collar almost seemed to tighten around his throat with the memory.

“How much do you want for him?”

“H– however much you’re willing to pay, sir,” his master answered, confusion written clear across his face. Kanan wondered once again at the new man’s role here.

“He’s not worth more than one fifty. Here.” The man produced a bag, pulling out several credit bars and counting them out before handing them over. Kanan watched in silence. It was less than any of the other times he’d changed hands, though Kanan also hadn’t been this bad any of those times, either. In all honesty, he agreed with the med droid’s analysis from a few months before—if he continued to test drugs, he wouldn’t live long. Maybe into his mid-twenties, if he was unlucky enough.

Though, he supposed, testing drugs was a lot better than the only other options he knew of.

“I can send the papers along later; they’re all through the ‘net. This is for the collar.” His master—former_ master former master former master—_handed the remote for his collar to the Zabrak. Kanan flinched instinctively, breath catching as he closed his eyes, anticipating the pain. Nothing came, however, and eventually he managed to talk himself into opening his eyes once more.

“Is is adjustable?”

“Yeah. Most of the time, you shouldn’t even need it, it’s usually okay if you just look over or say something. Like a well-trained dog at this point.” The man laughed and Kanan remained still, trying to ignore his still-pounding headache.

“Excellent. Come, boy,” his new master ordered. Kanan lurched forward, swallowing back the nausea from the sudden movement and following behind obediently.

He didn’t look back.


End file.
